In the first scene of Act 2, Barabas uses a metaphor to describe his daughter, Abigail, as the "loadstar" of his life:
But stay, what star shines yonder in the east?
The loadstar of my life, if Abigail.
Various characters draw comparisons between Abigail and the stars—here, specifically, she is likened to a loadstar, which leads or guides. In the first act of The Jew of Malta, Abigail is a centering force for her father, a person around whom he can structure all of his goals, hopes, and aspirations. She is also one of his greatest advocates, announcing in Act 1, Scene 1 that she will confront the senate after hearing of her father's misfortunes at the hands of the government:
But I will learn to leave these fruitless tears,
And, urged thereto with my afflictions,
With fierce exclaims run to the senate-house,
And in the senate reprehend them all,
And rend their hearts with tearing of my hair,
Till they reduce the wrongs done to my father.
Abigail is Barabas's loadstar, his advocate, someone whom he has decided will inherit all of his wealth. He puts her on a pedestal—a fact that makes his shift in attitude towards her in Act 2 (which culminates in murder) all the more tragic.
Throughout The Jew of Malta, Barabas constantly makes use of biblical metaphors or references biblical allegories, but he has a tendency to misapply and misinterpret their meaning as a means of justifying his own nefarious deeds. It is through this effort towards religious justification that Barabas maintains the cognitive dissonance required to claim the moral high ground while simultaneously murdering dozens of people. Barabas exhibits this willful misinterpretation of metaphor in the second scene of Act 1:
See the simplicity of these base slaves,
Who, for the villains have no wit themselves,
Think me to be a senseless lump of clay,
That will with every water wash to dirt:
No, Barabas is born to better chance,
And framed of finer mould than common men,
That measure naught but by the present time.
Barabas here claims that his enemies think him a "senseless lump of clay"—something that, to him, is clearly equated with weakness or a lack of fortitude. To be clay (at least in this context) is to be spineless and incapable of standing up for oneself or fighting back.
In the Bible, human beings are often metaphorically likened to clay. But, unlike in Barabas's characterization, biblical writers frequently associate clay with the idea of humans being formed or molded by God—of being made, even, in the image of God. Barabas has thus co-opted a metaphor with positive connotations and imposed his own Machiavellian viewpoint upon them.
At the end of Act 1, Don Lodowick and Don Mathias discuss Abigail, whose recent admittance into the nunnery—a ploy on the part of Barabas—has shocked Don Mathias profusely. In conversation, Mathias metaphorically presents Abigail as a flower:
A fair young maid, scarce fourteen years of age,
The sweetest flower in Cytherea's field,
Cropt from the pleasures of the fruitful earth,
And strangely metamorphosed nun.
Abigail's comparison to a flower, as well as the location of said flower, are details intended to emphasize her beauty and youthful bloom. Cytherea—or Cythera—is a Greek island that was thought to be the birthplace of Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty. This comparison is heavily steeped in cliché: indeed, it is incredibly common to see women compared to flowers or goddesses in both poetry and prose written by men. This metaphor is so stereotypical that it is arguably rather objectifiying—Mathias and Lodowick both perceive Abigail more as a projection of their own wants and hopes than as a real person with agency. Abigail's father views her similarly, using her as a pawn in his game of revenge and subsequently murdering her when she exhibits agency by defying him and joining the nunnery.
As Don Lodowick and Don Mathias discuss Abigail's beauty towards the end of Act 1, Mathias uses a strange metaphor to describe the condition of Lodowick's heart:
Had you seen [Abigail], 'twould have moved your heart,
Though countermined with walls of brass, to love,
Or at the least to pity.
Mathias uses figurative language to conjure up the image of Lodowick's heart as something that is surrounded by brass walls and thus impenetrable to love. This metaphor may seem a bit strange at first—why would Mathias reference brass specifically, and not another metal? Why describe these metaphorical walls as being made of metal at all, when real walls are more often constructed out of stone? The metaphorical significance of brass in this context is twofold. Most significantly, it was common to see brass used as a decorative metal during this time period, so Mathias may be suggesting that wealth and superficiality have made Lodowick unable to form real human connection. Secondly, the specification of brass may also be a subtle attempt at foreshadowing, as it was a common practice from the 13th century until the 17th century to use brass at burial sites as a means of commemorating the deceased. Lodowick is later killed, so this mention of brass may be a subtle attempt to prematurely "commemorate" his death.
In the first scene of Act 2, Barabas uses a metaphor to describe his daughter, Abigail, as the "loadstar" of his life:
But stay, what star shines yonder in the east?
The loadstar of my life, if Abigail.
Various characters draw comparisons between Abigail and the stars—here, specifically, she is likened to a loadstar, which leads or guides. In the first act of The Jew of Malta, Abigail is a centering force for her father, a person around whom he can structure all of his goals, hopes, and aspirations. She is also one of his greatest advocates, announcing in Act 1, Scene 1 that she will confront the senate after hearing of her father's misfortunes at the hands of the government:
But I will learn to leave these fruitless tears,
And, urged thereto with my afflictions,
With fierce exclaims run to the senate-house,
And in the senate reprehend them all,
And rend their hearts with tearing of my hair,
Till they reduce the wrongs done to my father.
Abigail is Barabas's loadstar, his advocate, someone whom he has decided will inherit all of his wealth. He puts her on a pedestal—a fact that makes his shift in attitude towards her in Act 2 (which culminates in murder) all the more tragic.
In an attempt to entice Lodowick to court his daughter—the first step in the revenge plot—Barabas discusses her at length (but abstractly), metaphorically presenting her as a diamond:
Lodowick: Well, Barabas, canst help me to a diamond?
Barabas: O, sir, your father had my diamonds.
Yet I have one left that will serve your turn: —
I mean my daughter: but ere he shall have her
I'll sacrifice her on a pile of wood.
I ha' the poison of the city for him,
And the white leprosy. [Aside.]
Lodowick and Barabas use diamonds as a stand-in for Abigail's actual name in this conversation, revealing their tendencies toward materialism. Both men view her as an object, something to be discussed, haggled over, and possessed. She is of interest to them both only insofar as she can satisfy them or help them towards achieving an end: for Lodowick, this satisfaction is romantic in nature and entirely unsurprising; for Barabas, this satisfaction is derived from Abigail's usefulness, whether as a pawn in a revenge scheme or as heir apparent to his wealth. Diamonds are beautiful, but they do not have agency in the eye of the beholder—and neither, in the eyes of Barabas or Lodowick, does Abigail.
In Act 3, Scene 3, upon finding out that her father's quest for revenge led to the deaths of both Lodowick and Don Mathias, Abigail commits herself to a life of Christian piety as a nun. This culminates in her using a metaphor to compare her life thus far to a "fatal labyrinth of misbelief," associating her Jewish faith and identity with sin:
My sinful soul, alas, hath paced too long
The fatal labyrinth of misbelief,
Far from the sun that gives eternal life.
Abigail personifies her soul, offering up an image of it pacing in a labyrinth. By design, labyrinths are intended to prevent their occupants from ever finding a way out: if lost in a labyrinth, one might end up trapped forever. Abigail thus views her lack of belief in Christianity as a fateful trap, preventing her from leading an eternal life of joy.
In any other context, this passage would seem fairly innocuous; however, in a play that heavily features other antisemitic stereotypes (i.e. a greedy Jewish man who hates Christians and wants to hoard wealth), this conversion and the associated metaphors serve to further paint Judaism as not only undesirable but also unethical and suffocating when compared to the Christian alternative.
Barbaras later affirms this negative association when he speaks to the monks who confront him for poisoning the nuns. In an attempt to deceive the monks through false repentance, Barbaras states, "I am a Jew, and therefore I am lost," thus playing on the deeply problematic idea that being Jewish is some kind of moral or spiritual failure.
